


Hawkes

by Dryad



Series: Scenes From a Murder Investigation [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, May beTriggering, Mytharc, NC17, casefile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She remembered -</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkes

**Author's Note:**

> **  
>  _This section may be triggering for Sexual Abuse._   
>  **

~*~

She remembered:

 _the way he pinched her nose_  
and  
 _the warmth of his arm around her throat_  
and  
 _the tender skin on the inside of his elbow_  
and  
 _the tickle of the hair on his forearm_  
and  
 _the burning itch when she peed her pants_

later on, she stood by the old record player, sucking her thumb and hugging the pink teddy bear she had been given. Squatting in front of her, Sergeant Joe held out a little white card and said, "You know you can call me anytime you want to, right?"

and when the police left, his hand was heavy on her shoulder, because they were still playing Happy Family.

~*~

Hawkes stood in the corner between the TV cabinet and the cheap torchiere, hoping she was unobtrusive. Shag carpeting the color of new grass deafened the footsteps of the detectives as they strolled through the room, taking notes on their tablets, clumsily bumping ceramic bric-a-brac with sleeves and elbows.

Faye Cork sat on the plastic covered, pale chintz couch, shining glints of light appearing by her thighs every time she shifted, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her mother sat next to her, silent and devastated as she watched all the strangers walking through her living room. 

Hawkes saw Agent Platt coming towards her and was barely able to keep the annoyance off of her face. She half-turned towards the wall, as if she were studying the god-awful print of babies and kittens for clues to the crime instead of trying to avoid her fellow Quantico escapee.

"Hey, Eliza," he said, blocking her view of the couch as she faced him. "Agent Mulder's just arrived. We'll get to see the great man himself in action, isn't that cool?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yup."

"I'm guessing he'll use Interview rather than Interrogation."

"Most likely," she murmured, wishing he'd leave her the hell alone. Of course Spooky'd use interview, poor Faye Cork was all of 12 years old, not some delinquent running from the law. There was a ripple of movement near the door, and Hawkes put her hand on Platt to get him out of the way.

Mulder ambled into the room, black trenchcoat shrouding his figure. He spoke quietly to the largest group of assorted troopers, detectives, and techs, who began to leave, before approaching the victim and her mother. He held out one hand. "Faye Cork? Hi, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Hawkes stepped forward in order to hear better, shaking off Platt's gentle grip of her upper arm. This was what Violent Crimes was all about – honoring victims and bagging criminals. She drew closer, perched on the edge of nearest Lay-Z-Boy. Platt nudged her shoulder with his hip when he sat on the chair's arm.

Mulder settled on the loveseat opposite the couch, bumping his knees on the coffee table. The loveseat sagged in the middle, so he sat a little below Faye's eye-level. "Faye, before you tell me what happened, is there anything Agent Platt or Agent Hawkes can get for you?"

Hawkes froze. He'd never even looked their way, not from the time he'd come inside the room.

Faye shook her head.

"Mrs. MacMillan, I'd prefer to speak to Faye outside of your presence. Agent Hawkes will be here, but if you'd feel more comfortable with a friend, Faye, I'd be more than happy to call someone."

Mother and daughter looked at one another. Faye seemed to shrink even further in on herself, but said, "'S okay."

"Agent Platt, would you escort Mrs. MacMillan out of the room, please?"

It was all Hawkes could do not to thumb her nose at Platt. That's what you get for being a suck-up. 

Mulder smiled and leaned forward, just enough to express interest without frightening the girl any further. Hawkes was impressed. She'd always thought body language was one of the least acknowledged techniques of law enforcement, and it was fascinating to watch the subtle use of it by a man. 

"Can you tell me what happened?" Mulder asked.

The girl nodded. "I was sitting on the porch after school, waiting for my friend Angela when this guy parked in front of the house. He said he'd give me twenty dollars if I helped him put some posters up for this band."

Poor kid, Hawkes mused. Didn't matter what you told'em, how often you talked until you were blue in the face. It was only after things happened that they started to listen.

The girl sniffled and wiped her nose. "He gave me some posters and when I looked down at them, he put a gun to my head and told me to get into his car."

"You're doing really well, Faye," Mulder said. "I know this is really hard for you, and I'm grateful for anything you can remember, no matter how small it might seem, okay?"

"His car was green, and old, y'know, like in Starsky and Hutch? That's my mom's favorite show."

"What happened when you got into the car?"

"He, um, tied my hands together with one of those plastic tie things where you put the end of the plastic into the loop at the other end and pull it really tight? He said if I didn't do what he wanted he'd come back and kill my mom and, and my little brother."

Hawkes spied a tissue caddy on the bottom shelf of the end table, retrieved it, put it on the coffee table. 

"Then, he told me to close my eyes, and bend over, until we stopped at the gas station," Faye grabbed a handful of tissues and blew her nose, wiped her eyes, her sniffles having turned into low-key crying as she spoke. "The car smelled funny, like something was burning, and he said he had to check the oil. When, when I heard him open the hood I looked up, and when he went into the store I opened the door and ran."

"I'm very glad you did that, Faye. You were very brave," Mulder said. "What did you do after you got out of the car?"

"Um," sniffle. "I um, ran behind the station, y'know, by the air hose? I tried to get into the women's toilet, but it was locked, so I ran to where there's a stack of old tires, and hid behind them."

"Could you see the car from where you were?"

A nod. "Yeah. Just the back end of it. He peeled out."

"Good, that's good. Did anything about the man strike you as unusual or weird? Did he speak with a funny accent, or have an odd smell?"

Faye blew her nose again, tiny creases appearing her her forehead as she rolled the tissue up into a ball. "He wasn't dressed like he talked, y'know?"

"In what way?" Mulder asked.

"He was, y'know, trying to fit in. But, it didn't work, see, cause he didn't like his clothing. Y'know, like her - "

Hawkes felt the sudden urge to brush for lost crumbs when they both looked at her.

" - she wouldn't be happy in stuff from Wal-Mart. That's what this guy was like. And he was wearing perfume, y'know, that men wear?"

"Cologne," Mulder supplied. "What was he wearing again?"

"Um, dark jeans, new black and gold Nike's, and a white XXL Varsity sweatshirt. He smelled like my daddy did when I was little."

"Okay, I'll ask your mom about that. Did the man remind you of anyone you know?"

Faye shook her head. "No. He sounded like he came from up north, though. They say their r's funny."

"Is there anything else you can think of at the moment?"

"No, um, no."

Mulder took a card out of his wallet and wrote something on the back. "This is my card. If you remember anything, even if it seems like nothing more than a brief flash of nothing in particular, call me. If you don't want to talk you can write it down, and have your mom bring it to me or any of the other police officers. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Faye said, taking the card by one corner before gripping it tightly in her fist. 

Hawkes stood as soon as Mulder did, and followed him out of the room, narrowly avoiding Mrs. MacMillan in her rush to get back to her daughter's side. Apparently wandering around the house was not something Mulder wanted to do, so she trailed him out to where the crime had begun, the porch.

He stopped and turned towards her. "Any thoughts?"

"I don't see what this has to do with our case," she shrugged one shoulder, looking back into the house. A set of pink, porcelain pigs on the hallway telephone table grinned back at her. "Doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Guy sees a little girl by herelf and decides she's fair game. Motive and opportunity," she murmured, checking her phone after it rang a second time. "Sorry, I have to take this," she said, stepping quickly towards the swinging bench. "Evan, this isn't a good time."

"I know you told me never to call you on this number, but I really wanted to see you today."

She was _not_ going to reach out across the ether and slap him. "Look, I can't talk about this right now."

"You always say that," he said, voice going all nasal in the way he surely by now must know she hated. "I don't see what the big deal is. I mean, it's not like they know I'm calling."

Pressure began to build at her temples in time with her pulse. Did she have any aspirin in the car? Maybe she could snag some from Agent Relman. "I'll call you when I get home, how about that."

An explosive sigh sounded in her ear. "Fine."

Hawkes pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. The son-of-a-bitch had hung up on her. A sharp needle of hurt spread out from her temples and radiated across the top of her head as if she had put on a skullcap. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and inhaled deeply, releasing the breath equally slowly.

Mulder was studiously looking towards the street when she turned around. Hawkes was torn between appearing weak by apologizing or just ignoring the whole incident. 

He took the decision out of her hands when he faced her, nodding once but looking straight into her eyes. "You think she'll be alright?"

"I think her mom will do right by her," she said. "Kids are resilient."

"Mm," Mulder said. "So long as she bends, she won't break."

Unnerved, Hawkes smiled politely and glanced away. She had the oddest feeling that he was talking about her.

She didn't like it. 

She wasn't sure she liked him, although there was no questioning he was a brilliant investigator. Clearing her throat, she said, "You really think this is connected to the Fuchs murder?"

"There are signs that point that way, yes."

What signs? Granted, she was on her first case, but she wasn't stupid. "I don't understand."

"Doesn't this crime strike you as a little too random, Agent Hawkes?"

"No?"

Mulder gestured towards the street. "What do you see? A quiet neighborhood, mostly full of older people whose children have left the area. Faye Cork is one of only three people under the age of eighteen, and the only girl, yet not two miles from here is an elementary school. Two blocks from the school is a park where many parents bring pre-school children to play during the day. Why do you think he chose this place and this time to grab a child?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Hawkes asked. "The school has teachers watching the kids during recess, and parents at parks watch their children - " she stopped, flustered.

Mulder grinned. "Like hawks?"

"I say he saw her, he grabbed her, end of story. And I'd guess he was new to this game, otherwise he would have made sure she couldn't escape from the car."

"That's where you're wrong. He was prepared. He had flyers, he had ties to bind her hands, he was just overconfident in thinking that a preteen would readily obey his commands. Besides," he frowned. "he's been watching her for some time. He thought he had everything in hand, and never expected her to do anything out of the ordinary. It's not a mistake he'll make again."

It was plausible. But..."I still don't see how it's connected to the Fuchs."

"You will."

**~*~ fin ~*~**


End file.
